


The Centipede Job

by fztsimmons (shatteringdaybreak)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Leverage
Genre: A whole new world, F/M, Grifter AU, Leverage AU, More Than 5K Exchange
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 13:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4879450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteringdaybreak/pseuds/fztsimmons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hacker, a muscleman, a grifter, a gadgetman, and a thief. With Phil Coulson, ex-insurance investigator, at the helm, what could possibly go wrong? </p><p>Answer: quite a lot, as it turns out. </p><p>Who knew stealing advanced prosthetics could go so wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Centipede Job

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the Whole New World More Than 5K exchange, for thelittlestitchwitch! I had lots of fun dreaming up different Leverage scenarios -- maybe too much fun. It took ages to decide on a job, but I eventually settled for a weird blend of The Nigerian Job, The Homecoming Job, and the The Two-Horse Job. 
> 
> Due to extenuating circumstances, including back-to-back exams and the unexpected scrapping of a rough draft, I can only post half of this today. The rest will be up next week, and along the way I may tweak and edit some bits. 
> 
> Also: I am a biochem major, not engineering. Forgive my attempted engineering mumbo-jumbo.
> 
> And I can't figure out paragraph breaks. But after an hour of trying to post this. I give up. Also forgive me for that.

Fitz didn’t think anything of it when his phone rang shrilly on his benchtop one Saturday afternoon, but when he looked at it and saw the caller ID as one Phil Coulson, he nearly electrocuted himself as he fell off his stool. 

Because since when did Phil Coulson, ex-insurance investigator, ex-chaser of people just like Leo Fitz, call him? 

...Was he being pranked? 

It occurred to him then that he still hadn’t picked up his ringing phone, which was now at risk of sending Phil Coulson to voicemail. And whatever the reason for Coulson calling him, Fitz knew implicitly that he definitely shouldn’t send him to voicemail. 

Fitz twisted himself around as he scrabbled for the phone, one foot hooking the barstool and sending it toppling to the floor. A bit of army-crawling later and he picked up the phone, trying and failing not to sound as flustered as he was. 

_Ok, sound natural, nothing too obvious…_

“What the _bloody_ hell?”

_Nailed it._

“I realize the call’s a bit unexpected--”

“Oh, yeah, a bit.” Fitz himself was surprised at the amount of sarcasm he managed.

“--but I’ve got an offer for you.”

“What, turn myself in and maybe shave off a few years? I’ve heard that one before.”

“No. I’m out of the game, hadn’t you heard?”

Well, of course he’d bloody heard. Everyone and their mum had heard about it. When someone like Phil Coulson pulls out, it’s not something that just goes unnoticed. Within a week, anyone Coulson had ever chased knew the story -- and even his bitterest enemy was left shaking his head. Nasty business, it was, losing his fiancee to cancer. And all because the very company he worked for wouldn’t cover the treatment. 

Coulson may have put Fitz in a pinch a time or two, but he’d never wish that on anyone. 

But if he was out of the game… what kind of offer could he be making?”

“No, I heard. Which still begs the question as to why you’re calling me. What’s this offer?”

“I’ve got a job and there are a few talents I need. Yours is one of them. Interested?”

“I’m sorry, I think I’m experiencing auditory hallucinations. Try that again?”

“Yes, Fitz, I’m putting together a crew. Try not to laugh as long as Skye did.”

“Skye? Rising Tide Skye?”

“You know another Skye?”

Well, no, he didn’t, but that wasn’t the point. “You called Skye?”

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

“Join the crew and I’ll tell you who I’ve got.”

That wasn’t fair. Now Fitz had to really think about it. And the more he did, the more mad it all seemed. “Why are you putting together a crew, anyway? Did you decide to switch sides?”

Coulson’s answer was vehement. “No. I’m not a criminal. I’m only trying to help someone that the law can’t.”

Ah. That made a little more sense. He’d never peg Coulson for one to steal a painting or jewel just because he wanted it, or it was valuable. But skirting the law in order to help someone with no other option? That was Coulson, alright.

And if he had managed to convince Skye, there was no telling who else he had on his team. Fitz didn’t work with others much, tending to sell the gadgets he made to whoever wanted them, and occasionally using them himself to pay rent. Besides Mack, who sometimes helped him with larger projects, there wasn’t anyone else he’d ever pulled a heist with. It would be interesting to work in a crew, especially with Coulson at the reins. 

There was just one small thing to clarify… “This job, we will get paid, right? Because being a Good Samaritan is all well and good, but it doesn’t exactly pay the rent, yeah?”

He could hear Coulson’s eyeroll through the phone. “Yes, Fitz. Everyone’s getting paid.”

“Excellent. Then I don’t see why not. What’s the job, exactly, and who else did you get?”

“Skye agreed, and so did Antoine Triplett.”

Hacker and muscle, always good for a job. “Do you have a grifter?”

“Not yet.”

“Jemma, then. You’ll need Jemma.”

“I can get Jemma.”

“Liar. No one can get Jemma.”

“I got the Cavalry.”

Fitz choked violently on his own spit. “You did -- the Cavalry -- how the bloody-- _no one_ gets the Cavalry.”

“Still think I can’t get Jemma?”

“...You can get Jemma,” Fitz said weakly. “Just… the Cavalry? How in the world did you manage that?”

“Maybe someday, Fitz,” Coulson replied. “I’ll tell you. I’ll text you with an address to meet at tomorrow.” The line disconnected, and Fitz was left listening to the dial tone in disbelief. 

That had just happened. Phil Coulson had called him and offered him a spot on his crew. His heist crew, presumably. And he’d said yes. And proposed that Coulson call Jemma. And Coulson had agreed. 

Things were about to get _very_ interesting. 

 

The next day found Fitz standing on the sidewalk across from a plain-looking office building, clutching a piece of paper in his hand and squinting at the address printed it on it. He looked up, double-checking the numbers displayed across the awning of the complex. Surely he wasn’t in the right place. 

But then again, this was Coulson. Everything about this was unexpected. 

Sighing, he shoved the paper back in his pocket and quickly crossed the street, briefly scanning the crowd for anyone he might know. Coulson had chased anyone and everyone back in the day, so the possibilities for the crew were practically endless. 

The marbled floors of the lobby echoed loudly as he crossed it, hunching his shoulders uncomfortably as he caught a few stares tossed his way. Worn jeans and button-up plaid wasn’t exactly the business casual everyone else seemed to be dressed in. Fitz subconsciously picked up his pace to the elevator, where he pressed the button for the top floor and waited, fidgeting every so often. 

Fortunately, no one else joined him in the elevator, so the ride up was silent at least. This, of course, meant that there was only more time for him to wonder what was waiting for him at the top and again, what exactly he’d gotten himself into. 

The doors opened with a placid chime, and Fitz stepped out into a long, carpeted hallway. Opaque windows blocked the adjacent offices from view and directed his gaze towards the one door that was propped open at the end. The place where a placard might have been was blank, as though someone hadn’t gotten around to installing it yet. Even still, the office floor was impressive, with antique paneling and buttery lights casting a warm glow. But despite the innocuous setting, Fitz was careful as he approached the door at the end of the hall. 

Muffled voices issued from within, overlapping each other. He knew he recognized a few, but couldn’t confirm it until he went through. 

Four people sat at a large conference table, all spaced out with at least one seat between them. Coulson sat at the head, a brown file folder resting in front of him. His hands were folded in his lap and he was watching Skye, one of the speakers Fitz had heard, with equal parts amusement and exasperation.

Skye, for her part, was arguing with a dark-skinned man sitting across from her, hands flying wildly as she made her point. When she saw Fitz, she stopped mid-sentence to nod approvingly at him. “Gadgetman, nice. Good pick, A.C.”

“I’ve told you, Skye, I was an insurance investigator, not an agent.”

She snorted. “Oh please. With those suits you wear? Total G-man.”

Coulson sighed, but didn’t bother trying to correct her again. 

The man Skye had been arguing with chuckled, then waved a hand at Fitz. “Fitz, right? I’m Trip, it’s nice to meet you.”

Fitz nodded at him. He’d never personally worked with Trip, but he’d heard about him. Good at his job and still kind-hearted -- a rarity in their line of work. 

“Go ahead and take a seat, Fitz. We’re just waiting on one more, and then I’ll take you through the job I’ve got.” Coulson tapped the folder in front of him. 

Fitz began to pull out one of the seats, but froze when he noticed who was in the next seat over. He’d almost forgotten she was there, she’d been so quiet and still, but then, that was how the Cavalry operated. In and out without a word, nothing disturbed save for what was missing. She was a legend, and for a few years Fitz hadn’t even believed she was real. But oh, she was, and bloody hell she was looking at him and he’d definitely been staring at her for way too long to be polite. 

He quickly scooted over and pulled out the seat next to Skye, who was not-so-subtly trying to hide her laughter. “Real smooth, I’m sure no one noticed that.”

“Fuck off,” he muttered. 

“Getting off to a pleasant start, I see.” A familiar British accent had Fitz’s head snapping up and his cheeks coloring. Jemma Simmons stood in the doorway, and though she was dressed in a simple blouse and jeans, Fitz thought -- not for the first time -- that she looked extraordinarily beautiful. 

Due to their different areas of expertise, he hadn’t had much opportunity to work with her, though they had run into each other a few times. If he were being honest, he hadn’t suggested her name to Coulson solely because he believed the crew needed her -- though she was very good at what she did -- but because he’d simply wanted the opportunity to work side by side. He always thought they’d get on, and now he finally had a chance to find out. 

“And now that Jemma’s here, I believe we can get started.” Coulson waved her in, and when she’d taken a seat, he finally opened up the file folder in front of him. 

“A few days ago, I was approached by Mike Peterson,” --he held up a photo of a smiling, dark-skinned man with scars across one side of his face-- “who I met before in the hospital after workplace accident claimed his right leg. Not long ago, he applied for and received a prosthetic from Centipede Biotech, a company who produces high-end artificial limbs.”

Fitz whistled. “Centipede? That’s some high-end tech, Peterson’s lucky he got it.”

“Not exactly.” Coulson slid another photo across the table. One glance at the mangled tissue it displayed had everyone cringing back. “The prosthetic failed catastrophically and did untold damage on what was left of Peterson’s leg. Doctors are still trying to determine if he’ll ever be able to walk again.”

He paused, taking in the shocked silence. “When he tried to reach out to Centipede for answers, they stonewalled him. They’re denying responsibility, claiming that Peterson was negligent in his use of their technology. They’ve also refused to pay his medical bills, which are piling up by the second.”

“That’s awful,” Jemma said quietly.

“When I tried to intervene, I was given the same treatment. And due to the waiver Peterson signed upon receiving the prosthetic, legally, he can’t do anything to expose Centipede’s wrongdoing or collect rightful compensation.”

“Which is where we come in, right?” Trip said. 

Coulson nodded. “I tried everything, and I honestly didn’t want it to come to this. For years I played on the other side, trying to take down people who committed the very acts I’m about to propose. But when the law refuses to help those have been wronged, like Mike Peterson… something has to be done. Someone has to step in and fight for those who are up against giants, who can’t do it themselves. So I decided that the only way to help him was to call the people who could get it done.”

“That was touching and all,” Skye said, “don’t get me wrong. But what exactly are we supposed to do against a company like Centipede. I mean, they’re huge.”

“You let me worry about that,” Coulson replied. “For now I just need to know, now that you know what exactly you’re getting into… are you in? Will you help me help Peterson?”

“Absolutely,” Skye answered immediately. “Down with the man, and all that.”

“I’ve never liked it when companies try to walk away from their mistakes,” Trip said. “Count me in.”

Fitz nodded. “Get inside Centipede? I’d love the chance.”

“Of course,” Jemma said. “Whatever you need.”

A single nod from the Cavalry, and the decision had been made. 

“Alright,” Coulson said, gathering up the papers. “Tonight we’ll reconvene and I’ll tell you the plan. Until then, May, you can help me with the details of that, and Skye, if you could start looking into Centipede, see if there’s anything we can use. Fitz, I’d like you to take a look at Peterson’s prosthetic to pinpoint what went wrong. Trip, you talk to Peterson and see if there’s anything else about his interaction with Centipede that might help. Jemma, you can assist Skye in the research; I think you’ll need it later.” He paused, looking around the table. “Everyone clear on what they’re doing?” 

“Where do you want me to take a look at this leg?” Fitz asked. “I can’t exactly dissect it on this table with my bare hands.”

Coulson smiled. “I’ve taken care of that. Follow me.” 

Fitz hastily pushed out his chair and followed Coulson out of the conference room, everyone else trailing after. They went down the hall until they reached a wooden door that didn’t match the rest of the others. Stepping aside, Coulson twisted the handle and pushed the door open to let Fitz enter. 

His jaw dropped, taking in the shining lab benches and immaculately organized tools. It was an engineer’s dream, really, filled with all the toys he could ever want. And it was smack in the middle of an office complex. 

“What in the world? What is this place?”

Coulson shrugged. “I know people.”

“What _kind_ of people?” Skye interjected, shouldering past him and into the lab. “This is ridiculous. Awesome, but ridiculous.”

Coulson ignored Skye’s question, looking instead at Fitz. “You have everything you need?” 

“I think that’s an understatement,” he mumbled, eyes still wide in amazement. 

“I’ll have the leg sent over, then.” Coulson made a note on the folder. “Skye, there’s a new laptop in the next office over, in case you need it.”

She shook her head. “I brought mine. But I mean, hey, I’ll take a free laptop.”

“Jemma, you’re set to help Skye?”

She shrugged. “I’m not nearly as skilled with computers, but I’ll do what I can.”

Skye smiled. “I’ll probably just give you the news articles while I tackle the down-and-dirty hacking.”

“Now, reading is something I can do,” Jemma replied, smiling back. “So I think we’re alright,” she said to Coulson. 

“Then Trip, May and I will drop you off at the hospital.” Coulson started to leave, then turned back. “Fitz, the lab’s brand new. Try not to blow it up?”

Fitz’s mouth dropped open in indignation. “That was one time!”

Coulson shrugged. “Once is enough.”

“I’ll be working with a leg, not explosives. How exactly am I supposed to blow it up?”

“I’m sure you’d find a way.” Coulson left the room, May and Trip following after him. 

“I’m not going to blow up the lab,” Fitz muttered at their retreating backs. He turned back around to see Jemma and Skye staring at him. 

“You blew up a lab?”

Fitz huffed. “It was a small fire. Small. It’s not my fault the lab techs didn’t know how to properly store their solvents.”

“All the same,” Skye said slowly, “I think I’m gonna work in the other room.” Jemma shot him an encouraging smile before turning after Skye, leaving Fitz to sulk alone. 

“One time,” he told the soldering iron hanging on the wall. “One time and suddenly everyone’s a critic.”

The soldering iron didn’t reply. 

 

An hour later, one mangled prosthetic appeared at the lab door, handed off by a silent courier who disappeared as soon as Fitz signed the forms. Immediately he dove into it, prying off the outer shell and picking apart the innards to try and find out what had gone so horribly wrong. 

It wasn’t so clear at first, and any other engineer might have missed it, but Fitz wasn’t just any engineer. Everything seemed in perfect working order, save for the mangled connections at the top. And that was where Fitz found it. The circuitry that was supposed to bridge the nerves to the prosthetic itself were poorly designed, though at first glance they would appear perfectly functional. Most likely Centipede had used cheaper materials and skipped out on necessary inspections to save money, and it had cost Mike Peterson the further use of an already damaged leg. The whole thing just reeked of corporate greed -- the more Fitz thought about it, the angrier he became.

It was then that the door opened and Skye appeared, holding her laptop out. “Okay, I have got a question to ask you… but maybe you should put down the hammer. You look like you want to brain someone and I’d rather it not be me.” 

Fitz let out a deep breath and set the tool down, fingers flexing as he gripped the table. “The leg, they just… the craftsmanship is completely shoddy. So many corners were cut, it’s like the assembly line’s now just an assembly circle.”

Skye’s face darkened. “Assholes. I can’t wait to give them every virus I’ve got.”

Fitz shook his head, trying to clear it of dark thoughts. “Anyway, what did you want to ask me?”

Her face brightened. “Oh yeah. Well, while the computer’s running the hack I thought I’d do a little digging on our new teammates--”

“They’re not exactly new, though, are they? I mean, some of us have worked together before.”

Skye hopped up onto one of the lab benches and waved a hand dismissively. “You might have. I’ve only worked with you before. I mean, I’ve heard about Trip, and who doesn’t know the Cavalry--”

“I still can’t believe she’s here.”

“I know! How do you think Coulson swung that?”

“Maybe they knew each other before.”

“Oh my god, that would be amazing. I need to find out. But that’s still not what I wanted to tell you. I was looking into your girlfriend--”

Fitz blushed violently. “She’s not my girlfriend!”

Skye raised an eyebrow. “Really? Cos you’re the only one of us who’s worked with her before, and Coulson told me you even suggested her. So you sure about that?”

He spluttered. “Wh -- yes, I’m sure! This isn’t even the point, so what were you saying?”

Skye looked utterly skeptical, but dropped it anyway. Fitz knew she wasn’t letting it go -- this was Skye after all. But he’d been granted a slight reprieve and damn if he wasn’t going to take it. “I was Googling Jemma--”

“You found her on Google?”

“Would you stop interrupting me?” Skye snapped. “Okay, no, I didn’t literally Google her, but I figured it was shorter than saying, ‘I hacked various databases and did a broad-range search for anything I could find on her.’ Happy?”

“Sorry. Continue.”

“As I was saying, I Googled her and found that apparently she’s an actress in her spare time.”  
“Yeah, so?”

“Wait, you knew this?” She spun the laptop around and clicked play on the video displayed on the screen. There was Jemma, dressed in a regal Elizabethan gown, overacting for all she was worth. 

_“Come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts!” she cried, flinging her hands in the air. “Unsex me here, and fill me from the crown to the toe.” She knelt and swept her arms in a broad gesture up and down her body, her words falling and rising with unnatural inflection._

Fitz winced. “Okay, I know she’s not the best actress out there--”

“Fitz. It’s bad. So bad. It’s like watching a trainwreck everyone in the train is wildly overacting so the train decides to wreck itself just to end it all. And she’s our grifter. Our _grifter._ Do you realize how screwed we are? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Look, you haven’t seen--”

“Oh, I think I’ve seen enough.”

“No, you don’t understand. You have to trust me. And Coulson does know her, so you’ll have to trust him too. Okay?”

Skye regarded him carefully, then finally sighed. “Only because that rappelling system you made for me saved my ass in Rome. But if this goes sideways--”

“It won’t. At least, not where Jemma’s concerned. I promise.”

“Alright. But I’m holding you to that.”

“Hold away.”

Jemma picked that moment to poke her head through the door. “There you are. I wondered where you ran off to.” Her sudden appearance prompted Skye to slam her laptop shut and for Fitz to send a plastic case of wrenches clattering to the ground. “Oh!” Jemma said, rushing forward to help. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What? No, no one’s startled it’s fine.” He tried to ignore how their fingers brushed when she handed him one of the wrenches. When he straightened up, Skye was giving him a very significant look, paired with no small amount of eyebrow waggling. 

_Shut up,_ he mouthed, then pressed his lips together into a tight grin as Jemma stood up, brushing non-existent dirt off her jeans. 

“What were you two talking about?” she asked. “Anything interesting?”

“Nope, absolutely nothing at all,” Fitz said. 

At the same time, Skye replied, “Just a grappling system he made me.”

Jemma looked between the two of them, her gaze suddenly uncertain. “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

“Not at all,” Skye said quickly. “Fitz is just the only one I really know from previous jobs, so he and I were catching up.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize you two knew each other.” 

Skye shrugged. “Not all that well. I bought a few gadgets off him, that’s all.”

Fitz shot her a quizzical look. Yes, that was the extent of their business dealings, but they’d had a few chats here and there, and he thought he’d been able to call her a tentative friend. Why was she downplaying that?

“But I know I’m not the only one he knows from before. You guys worked together, didn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it that,” Fitz said hastily. He missed Skye’s aggravated look as he continued. “I mean, we’ve got different areas of expertise, really, but I did make her a card reader and a lock-picking device. And we’ve run into each other a few times.”

“Yes,” Jemma said, though something in her voice sounded off. “So I suppose the answer to your question would technically be no.”

Fitz’s eyebrows drew together. He hadn’t really meant it like she said -- only that they hadn’t ever been proper partners. But now they could… if he ever managed to say the right thing, that is. 

“Okaaaay,” Skye said slowly. “You know, I was just about to take off, let you to properly catch up.” She hopped off the counter and scooped up her laptop. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to find some dirt on Trip. Or maybe the Cavalry -- can you imagine that?” She left the lab before either of them could answer, leaving a long, awkward silence behind her. 

Eventually, Jemma said, “Maybe I should see if I can go help her.” 

But before she could take two steps toward the door, Fitz dropped the tool he was fiddling with. It hit the table with a loud clang. “Eurgh, uh, sorry. Um, I just wanted to -- I mean, I don’t want you to think -- that is--”

“Fitz. Spit it out.”

“I didn’t mean that we’ve never worked together, or that I didn’t really count the few times I made you something as working,” he said all in a rush. “I just meant, we’ve never really been partners on a job, officially. I thought that was what Skye was asking.” 

He meant to stop there, he really did, but somehow his brain latched onto the topic and would not let go. “I mean, I wanted to work with you but didn’t know how, with our different roles, so when Coulson called I just gave him your name because I thought--”

“Wait. You gave Coulson my name?”

_Shit. Abandon ship, abandon ship!_

“Uh, well, yeah. I knew he needed a grifter and you’re the best I know, so. Why wouldn’t I?”

 _Or you can just stay there, enjoy the swim._

Jemma positively beamed at him. “Thank you, Fitz. I’m flattered you thought of me.”

_Yup. If you could please not read any more into that, that’d be fantastic._

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’ve been working on the leg like Coulson asked…”

Thankfully, she took the bait. “Have you found something?”

“Only that he was right. Centipede was sneaky about it the bastards, but something is definitely wrong with the design. Cut corners to save production costs would be my guess, at least without seeing the original blueprints for myself.”

Jemma’s mouth curled into a frown. “So they gave poor Mike Peterson a leg that was guaranteed to fail.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad Coulson called us. I’m happy to see anyone who would do this get exactly what they deserve.”

A thought that had been itching in the back of Fitz’s mind all day wormed its way to the surface, and though it might not have been the best time to bring it up, he couldn’t resist. “Can you believe he called the Cavalry, though?”

Her face cleared instantly. “I know! I couldn’t believe it when I heard, but there she was at the conference table. How on earth do you think he managed that?”

“I was talking to Skye about it earlier. Maybe it’s possible they knew each other from before? Before what, I don’t know…”

“Do you think they ran into each other back when he was an investigator?”

“Oh, I would pay very good money to see that.” 

“How do you think that situation played out?”

“Probably a lot of staring and very significant blinking.”

She laughed, and Fitz was caught off-guard for a moment. The harsh fluorescent lights in the lab usually did no one any favors, but she still managed to look radiant to him. Quickly he racked his brain for something else witty to say, if only to see her laugh like that again. 

They talked for hours as Fitz worked on the leg, and even though they had never officially worked together, he couldn’t help but feel like they’d been doing this forever.

 

Evening had just started to fall when Coulson, May, and Trip returned, bringing with them various boxes and bags, none of which Fitz was able to identify. Despite his curiosity, he settled in at the conference table next to Jemma, who had straightened out the pads and pens they were given neatly in front of her. Fitz picked one up and began twirling it around his fingers as Coulson began the briefing. 

“Centipede is hosting a fundraising gala tomorrow night, but it’s also serving another purpose -- good publicity before the biotechnology expo taking place next week. Cybertek has been the one to beat for the past several years, and this year, it seems like Centipede is trying to challenge that. This works to our advantage.”

Coulson picked up a remote next to him and clicked it. A television screen at one end of the conference room lit up, displaying the picture of a doe-eyed, curly haired woman with an enigmatic smile. “This is Raina, head of research and development. She’s spearheading the prosthetics campaign, and if there’s been any wrongdoing in that sector, she’s sure to know about it. She’s also going to be at the gala tonight.”

“So what’s the play?” Skye asked. “How do we get Bambi here to spill all of Centipede’s secrets?”  
“There has to be some kind of documentation regarding the manufacturing of the prosthetics, and that’s what we need to find. During the gala, when everyone’s mingling in the lobby, Skye and May will break into the server room to try and find that documentation.”

“Ooh, I get to play cat burglar? Awesome!”

Fitz eyed May out of the corner of his eye and wondered how exactly that was going to play out. 

“Meanwhile, to distract Raina and set up for the job’s follow-through, Jemma will pose as a representative of a rival biotech company hoping to do business with Centipede. Fitz will be with her as the lead designer on a similar prosthetics project, to lend credibility.”

“I’m sorry, I’m doing what now?”

Coulson ignored him. “Trip, you’ll be blending in with the waitstaff as backup, in case things go wrong.”

Trip nodded. 

“After that, things get a little more complicated…” Coulson clicked the remote again and continued his briefing, and though Fitz was still listening, a part of him was still fixated on his role in the job. 

Now, it wasn’t that he couldn’t do fieldwork, only that he preferred not to. There were a few rather…unpleasant experiences that he’d rather not have a chance to relive, and given that he was working in a team who would be depending on him, well, the thought was making him more than a little anxious. 

Finally, Coulson began to wrap up, and though Fitz thought he was placing entirely too much responsibility on someone who spent most of his days in a lab tinkering, the overall plan was solid. 

“Does everyone understand their parts?” Coulson asked when he’d finished. 

Nods. 

“Any questions?”

Fitz raised his hand. “Yes. Why do I have to go to the gala? I mean, my expertise is really in the lab, so--”

Coulson interrupted him. “Your expertise is precisely why you’re needed there.”

“But I don’t have a tux. Or anything fancy. So that’s a shame, but it looks like I can’t go--”

“May’s already taken care of that.”

“May has a--” He tried to look her in the eye, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen her blink, so that was making it difficult. “You have a tux for me? How do you know it’ll fit? You know, I’m very tricky to size.”

“It’ll fit.” Her words were precise and left no room for argument. 

“I -- wh-- ok. I guess it’s going to fit.” He slumped back in his seat, resigning himself to an evening filled with any number of strangers who could make him, all the while trying to convince a shrewd business woman to buy from a company that didn’t really exist. Wonderful. 

A gentle hand touched his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” Jemma said, leaning over to speak softly in his ear. “I’ll be beside you the whole time.”

Of course. Jemma was going to be with him. At a fancy gala. Wearing a dress. Spending the entire evening with him. And even though it wasn’t a date, it would sort of look like a date to anyone who saw them. 

What had he been complaining about exactly?

 

“I hate these things. Hate them. There is a very good reason why I work in a lab or at my apartment or anywhere that is not a fancy gala in a fancy hotel surrounded by fancy people.”

“Fitz, calm down.”

“No, I’m completely calm. I would just very much like to get our job done and get out of here.”

Skye’s voice crackled in his ear. “Yeah, good luck with that, guys.” Even though she couldn’t say it, because Jemma had an earpiece too, he could hear the trepidation in her voice. Skye still wasn’t convinced that Jemma was skilled enough to pull this off. And come to think of it, she probably didn’t believe he could, either. 

He straightened up a little at the thought. Despite not wanting to be here, he was certainly capable of deceiving Raina. He’d show Skye and anyone else who doubted him that he could do this.  
“I’m fine,” he told Jemma. “Just come nerves.”

She smiled at him. “I understand. Sometimes I get nervous before meeting a mark for the first time. That’s why I spend so much time studying.”

And study she had. When Fitz had poked his head in to check on her earlier that day, he’d taken one look at the piles of papers and science journals and wondered if she’d managed to drown herself underneath it all. 

“I’ll say,” he said, craning his neck to scan the crowd. Raina hadn’t made an appearance yet, but she was due any minute. 

Jemma shrugged. “What can I say? I excel at preparation.”

“Wow, Fitz, I think we finally found someone as nerdy as you,” Skye chimed in. 

“Skye, don’t you have some breaking in to do?”

“Hey, I’m just a hacker. May’s working on it. So for now I get to listen to the Brit twins try and charm a lady who I learned online is probably much scarier than she looks.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Jemma turned to him and laid one hand on his arm. Probably a bad move if she wanted him to pay attention to anything she was saying, but he’d manage. “What accent did we want to use? British or American?”

“If you guys can actually pull off American, I’d suggest that,” Skye said. “I don’t think she’ll be as likely to trust foreigners.”

“American it is,” Fitz said, adopting the accent he’d taught himself through years of television programs. 

“Agreed.” Jemma adopted a similar accent, and Skye snickered. 

“Hey, maybe you two can pull this off.”

May’s voice cut in. “Less talking, more working.”

“Yes ma’am boss lady,” Skye said. “Good luck, you guys.”

At the same time, Jemma nudged him. “There she is,” she murmured, nodding toward a flurry of movement on the other end of the lobby. A petite woman in a shimmering floral dress greeted a cluster of sponsors, and even if Fitz hadn’t seen her picture before, he’d be able to identify her as Raina, the woman behind Centipede’s recent surge in development. 

“Are you ready?” Jemma asked. 

“I am if you are.”

“Then here we go.”


End file.
